


Pick a Winner, Harold

by zeffyamethyst



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Gen, where Reese is an actual robot and Finch has clever fingers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-05 11:44:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/722912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeffyamethyst/pseuds/zeffyamethyst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a much older model of Covert Dolls than Harold had requested, but needs must.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pick a Winner, Harold

**Author's Note:**

> 1) Really, this is all Grimmsical's fault  
> 2) The title is from something Reese says to Finch in an episode

He is an imposing figure, even with his systems disabled and his limbs spread akimbo. The Landers like their Dolls as human-like as they can get, and this one is no exception. Every wrinkle is lovingly detailed, ever strand of hair crafted to resemble the real thing, and his hands, when Finch turns them over, are calloused meticulously. There is little about him that screams artificial intelligence, which had been the point, Finch supposes. 

Covert Dolls would hardly be useful if they couldn't blend in with humans. 

Finch digs his fingers into the Doll's hair until he finds the access port, hidden just behind the left ear. About the size of a pen tip, so unobtrusive only those looking for the port would find it. He really is beautifully designed. 

Reluctantly, Finch leaves the Doll to limp over to his wire cupboard. Bear pads over on metal and flesh legs to sniff curiously at the Doll, giving Finch a questioning look when he only encounters the smell of cold metal. 

"Just you wait, Bear," Finch says, pulling down a box. 

He organises the spare parts in chronological order. He's making a guess as to the era this Doll was from; after Finch but before the current models running around. The Landers had run through three models of Covert Dolls in that time frame, and Finch eventually finds all three access wire types. 

The hard part comes when he has to put in the wires. Sitting on the floor wouldn't do, but nor did he have the strength to pull the Doll up onto a higher surface. It was only because Leon, Finch's dealer, had stayed behind to help that he even got the thing into the apartment. Bear and he stare at the Doll for a moment, then at each other. 

"I hadn't anticipated this," Finch admits. He wonders if maybe he might need to call for help. 

Bear whuffs out a breath and pads over to a corner of the room. Finch is just about to give up and dial Fusco's number when Bear comes back, dragging a stool behind him. 

Finch's systems are too old to muster up the necessary heat for a blush but his lips twitch and his shoulders hunch up a little. "Oh. Well, or that." 

If a half-mechanical, half-flesh dog could have looked smug, Finch thinks as he settles onto the stool. He pulls the Doll sideways between his legs, one hand holding back his hair so Finch can insert the wires. 

After finding the right fit, it's only a matter of connecting the shell to a hub and scrubbing the core over. Finch likes this part of it. Coding comes easily to him, always has, and letters and numbers and symbols fill out the screen to bursting. He strips away the extraneous outer layers, the false identities and memories, untli he gets to the core. The personality, so to speak. Finch tweaks it very little, he doesn't want to change the Doll after all, nor make him regard Finch as his master. Just, make him amenable to Finch's suggestions. 

It's dark by the time Finch finishes, so he takes a well deserved break and makes dinner for Bear and himself. Rice and dried meat is hardly a luxury but most of his fundings have gone into obtaining the Doll, so for the next few days until Finch builds up a capital, this will have to do. As an after thought he puts some of it aside. For later. 

Bear is solid warmth along his side as Finch sits on the stool, eating his meal and staring at what could either be his best idea or his worst. There's no guarantee the Doll won't just kill him automatically when Finch turns him on. No guarantee the Doll, stripped of all but it's core, will be of any use in Finch's personal crusade. No guarantee he won't regret it days and months later on down the track. 

No guarantee any of that will happen either. 

In the end, there is no logic in why Finch decides to go ahead except the only way to learn from a failure was to make the mistake. 

He watches the metaphorical light flicker back into the Doll's eyes, and even knowing the science of it, imagining the furious race of electrical impulses, he will always marvel at seeing one of his own come to life. Metal alloy for bones, syntha-flesh for the real thing, wires for nerves; all those component parts coming together to form the whole. Just like a human. 

The moment when the Doll's systems are completely online is the moment when he becomes aware of his surroundings. Finch is suddenly the focus of the Doll's attention, and he tries not to fidget at the intensity trained on him. He needs to keep the upper hand here. It takes everything he has to make his lips curl up the smallest degree, to step forward, to hold out his hand. 

But it takes almost no effort at all to say, "Hello, Mister Reese. Welcome to your second life."


End file.
